Feeling Manipulated

I've been suffering from intense headaches for the last few weeks, so at my good wife's insistence - she has had some experience of such things, it seems - I finally found a quiet moment to pop along to the local physiotherapist to get it sorted.

I've not had my neck and back seen to for ... oh, about six years. A chinese masseur freaked me out in Sydney way back when, twisting my head round with the alarming sort of cracking noise usually dubbed onto scenes in movies where the villain breaks someone's neck by twisting it round with an alarming sort of cracking noise. Apparently you can do that and it cures things. Like breathing, one assumes.

Anyway, after realising this could all be sorted by crunching my muscles, not my bones, I got along to the clinic for a session.

To her credit, the lady tasked with fixing the problem didn't shake her head and suck her breath in through her teeth, mechanic-style, when she learned I was a writer. It's safe to say, however, that my problems all stem from bad posture while sitting at the computer, typing. She ran through a list of criteria that had to be fulfilled while sitting in front of the monitor, if I wanted to prevent any further problems.

I'm failing to meet every single one of them as I type this.

Apart from some intensive massage and refurnishing my office, I have to do some exercises between now and next week and have also been advised to build up my upper back muscles by either swimming or weight-training.

The idea of me weight training has already provoked gales of laughter from an old Sydney mate, so swimming it is, just as soon as I can find a spare half-hour.

Oh, and playing XBox doesn't help, either. D'oh!